


Any Other Name

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's role changes with her name, but she knows which one she likes best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redcandle17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/gifts).



> Warnings: BDSM, dark themes, anal sex. Mentions of bukkake and spanking.
> 
> This was written for the lovely [](http://redcandle17.livejournal.com/profile)[**redcandle17**](http://redcandle17.livejournal.com/) who bidded for a story on the [](http://qldfloodauction.livejournal.com/profile)[**qldfloodauction**](http://qldfloodauction.livejournal.com/) and won! She asked for BDSM where the submissive lets her limits get pushed to please her Dom and a slightly messed up relationship. With thanks to F for the beta and much love to [](http://deirdre-aithne.livejournal.com/profile)[**deirdre_aithne**](http://deirdre-aithne.livejournal.com/) for the hand holding.

He never called her Mudblood. Sometimes he had to humiliate her; in their situation it was unavoidable. But he would never stoop so low, even when they were surrounded by ugliness. Even when she was kneeling in the middle of ugliness, as she was now.

At moments like this she was _Granger_.

She hadn't known what was going on as he'd secured the bindings behind her back, but when he whispered "Chin up, Granger," she knew it was going to involve the others. It always did when he called her Granger; it was his way of distancing himself from what was about to happen.

It didn't matter what was happening, though. She still obeyed, because he was Severus Snape and she didn't know how _not_ to obey.

So she knelt in the middle of the Deatheaters and kept her chin up. They hated it, this act of defiance from the _mudblood_ , but it was what he asked of her. She could see him from where she knelt. He was sitting in his chair by the fire, robes covering the thin, hard lines of his body and glass of Odgen's held close to his lips to obscure the expression on his face. But his eyes held hers, and she could sense the regret in them that he could never outwardly show.

One of the men, Goyle the elder, she thought, turned to her Master. "Not joining in, Snape?"

"If I wanted to compare broom sizes with you lot I'd have joined the quidditch team in third year. No. This is a lesson for her."

Severus kept his eyes on her. Never looked at the men whose moans and gasps were growing louder.

"Still she looks at me with defiance in her eyes. None of you are up to the challenge."

"I am, Professor!" It was Goyle the younger and with a sound like a startled wildebeest he came, leaving trails of ejaculate trailing down her breast. As if it was a sign, suddenly the other members of the little circle were gasping and crying out and leaving splashes of moisture over her shoulders and neck and in her hair. Finally Carrow stepped forward and heaving a sigh, released himself over her face. She didn't blink and was careful to keep her mouth closed. She didn't want anything of his in her mouth.

"Still with her chin up. You're all useless." Severus didn't move from his chair. "Get out. All of you. Now! I'll have to punish her myself."

She stayed on her knees as they filed out past her. Finally she heard the door close, and the expression on his face showed all his regret.

"Did I please you, Master?"

"Hermione." He sighed, and with a couple of flicks of his wand she was clean again and her arms were free. "You know that wasn’t to please me. It was to –"

She stayed on her knees and crawled towards him. Her movement silenced him.

"You didn't enjoy it, Sir? Didn't think I looked pretty all tied up and keeping my chin up like you said?" She took a chance and ran her hands up his thighs under his robes. His breath hitched as she'd known it would. "Didn't like seeing me covered in cum?"

His hand moved quickly and grabbed her hair. "Not theirs." His voice was fierce. "It should only be mine."

She nodded and bent her head to take his erection in her mouth. Usually she'd wait to be told, but when he was in this mood she had to take control. He had the Odgen's and that faraway look and it was her job to bring him back. She bent to her task with enthusiasm, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other fondling his balls. His hand in her hair gentled. There was no control there, just gentle stroking and the occasional twitch of his fingers when she twisted her hand _just so_. She pulled away to take a breath.

"Not up to the task, Miss Granger?"

She smiled and bent again. Miss Granger, not Hermione. He was back.

  
Miss Granger was the name he used when they were alone. It was her favourite. Miss Granger was what he called her when he was feeling relaxed. Happy. Or as relaxed and happy as they could be living under Voldemort's yoke while still trying to defeat him.

Miss Granger was for when he forgot that he was acting. For when he forgot he felt guilty for everything he was doing to her. Miss Granger was for when he wanted to show how much he loved her, and when he wanted her to show how much she loved him. At least that's what she told herself.

So when he said, "Come here, Miss Granger," she obeyed. "Clothes off."

She quickly stripped her clothes and felt herself blush under his murmured praise.

She walked forward at the motion of his graceful fingers and stood between his spread thighs.

"Professor," she said, and hid a smile at the familiar half-smile that stole over his lips when she called him that.

She liked the way he looked at her, as if there were never-ending ways that she could please him and he was looking forward to discovering them all. He ran a hand from hip to waist and let it rest there, assessing her.

"Well, Miss Granger. What do you have for me today?"

She dutifully began to speak of the day's research. Spells and poisons and possible hiding places for horcruxes and some way to end the hell that they were stuck in. Those long fingers ghosted over her ribs and scratched lightly across her breast as she spoke and her voice was sounding distinctly breathless.

When she stumbled over her words his fingers pinched and twisted the closest nipple, drawing a gasp from her that turned into a breathy moan. It was like she was melting from the inside and she bit her lip, relishing the pain that allowed her to concentrate and finish reciting the scant facts that she'd uncovered while he was playing sycophant to the mad man currently in control.

"That's very thorough, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Should you have a reward?"

She kept her head bowed, but looked up into his eyes. She wondered for a moment when it was that she first started wanting to please this man. Was it in sixth year when he dismissed her correct answer as 'adequate'? Or third year when he called her an insufferable know-it-all? Perhaps it was as far back as her very first class with him when he didn't call on her at all. He was the first teacher she'd failed to please. Here she knew how to please him.

"If I've pleased you, Professor," she said, and the hand at her waist tightened and drew her forward across his lap.

"I don't suppose this is a reward." His hand rubbed slow circles over her arse, warming the skin. "A spanking is normally punishment, isn't it?"

She groaned, and wondered when Severus Snape became a man who could tease, a man whose voice contained humour and warmth and something that she could convince herself was love.

"But since you like it so much," he said, and the hand came down firmly on her right buttock. She tensed at the familiar tingle in her body and waited breathlessly for the next blow.

  
Some days he called her Hermione and it was these days that weighed on her mind. He treated her like a colleague, an equal in the fight and part of her loved it. But these days, when he insisted she call him Severus, were the days when his guilt came out.

She wanted to explore this sea of passion that had become a haven for her in the terror that they were living. There was a heightened sensuality that had invaded her consciousness after she was gifted to Severus Snape, Deatheater. It gave each look, each touch, each word between them an added layer. Even when he was elsewhere and had left her locked in his room, sitting at his desk often brought a dull ache from last night's spanking. The rough robes she was forced to wear rubbed across sensitive nipples and there were often marks and light bruises on her wrists and ankles, leaving her brain in a haze of lust even as she tried to concentrate on plans and freedom.

She wanted to experience it all: bondage and obedience and testing her own limits to please him, but when she was Hermione he didn't want to hear it.

"Professor-"

"It's Severus, Hermione."

"Severus, then. I don't understand why you're pushing me away."

"Hermione," he said. "When this is done and you're free you'll have no interest in submitting to anyone. This is just some strange psychological reaction to the fact I'm keeping you alive."

Hermione. Always Hermione when he was disagreeing with her. But at least when she's Hermione she can argue.

"You can't possibly know what I feel, Severus. This isn't some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome. I like this, what we have between us. I like being told what to do. I like having to obey."

"And why do you suppose that is?"

"It makes me feel like it's okay not to know everything. It makes me feel safe."

"Safe. That certainly doesn't sound like a reaction to our situation." He sounded as dry as he ever had in front of a class.

"And would it make you feel safe to be taken by all my friends? To obey when I ask you to sit still while I thread a needle through your skin or eat from a bowl on the floor or take my fist into your body rather than my cock?" She felt the blood drain from her face. "Even something as simple as anal sex, Hermione. Would you be willing to do that, knowing how much it pleases me?"

She couldn't answer that, and though she thought his smile would be triumphant, it was actually sad. "I thought not."

  
'Sir' was what she called him when she wanted to atone. When she wanted him to listen and pay attention.

"Sir," she said, and knelt at his feet. She didn't speak, just kept her eyes on the warm, woolen socks he wore around his apartments and gave herself the mental reminder that she had to mend them. Her posture, the soft-spoken 'sir' were enough to let him know she wished to speak. He would ask when – if - he was ready.

"What is it, Miss Granger?"

"I know you said it to scare me, Sir, but I do want to please you, no matter what it takes. Even if it is anal sex or," she gulped, "fisting. I trust you. You'll make me enjoy it, I know."

His hand caressed her cheek, his finger under her chin tilted her head back to look into his eyes. "Hermione –"

"No, Sir. Please, no Hermione today."

"Miss Granger, then."

She nodded.

"Go get the oil and come back."

When she returned he was on the couch rather than the armchair and after taking the vial from her fingers he pulled her across his lap. His hands moved over her bottom in movements familiar from scores of spankings and she relaxed under his touch and waited for the hand to fall. Instead his thumb pressed between the cheeks of her buttocks and pressed against her hole. She felt every muscle in her body tense up.

"We don't have to do this, Miss Granger. You can say no and walk away now."

"I –"

"Do you trust me?" he asked after she failed to say anything else.

"Yes, Sir," was her immediate response.

"Then relax." She felt oil run over his hands and dribble down her crack and then that thumb was rubbing small circles and she tried to forget that he was touching her anus, but found it impossible to move away from that thought.

"What is it you're worried about?" he asked her as the thumb began to pull at the skin, stretching it slightly and sending surprising shards of pleasure rocketing through her.

"It's just, it's – I – well – " She felt her face heat with embarrassment but she still had no way to put into words the mortification she'd feel if she wasn't, well, _clean_.

He chuckled. "I know where my finger is going, there's no need to be embarrassed. But there are cleaning charms, if you'd rather."

"Yes, please, Sir." She felt a tingle of magic run through her and felt her body relax just a little bit more. The thumb moved slowly, rhythmically, in its small circles and ministrations, and with his other hand slowly smoothing over her hair it was almost relaxing.

"Will it -" She swallowed as the thumb pressed inside her. "Does it hurt?"

"I will endeavour to make it as painless as possible, but I know you enjoy a little pain, don't you, Miss Granger?" She nodded as his thumb began to thrust slowly inside her. "Can you touch yourself, Miss Granger?"

It was awkward and required her to rise up on her knees a little, but she slipped her hand between her legs and circled her clit as the thumb made way for two long fingers slipping into her arse and stretching the tight muscle.

"Concentrate on the pleasure, Miss Granger. From your fingers and my own."

"Yes, Sir," she said.

It was nothing like she'd expected. She'd balked when he had first mentioned it, despite how obvious his interest was. He'd respected that, respected her, and even though she hadn't felt ready when she'd offered, she felt ready now as he ignored the erection she could feel pressing against her belly to prepare her so carefully.

As she began to relax she pushed back on his fingers, wordlessly urging him faster and harder. It was cheeky and she thought she might be punished for it, but he groaned and bent to sink teeth in her shoulder and accede to her silent demand.

"You have a safeword, Miss Granger," he said as he withdrew his fingers. It sounded like it was a struggle to say.

"I won't use it," she said. She never had and she wasn't about to start now.

"Very well." He helped her stand and guided her through to the bedroom.

She lay flat on her stomach, not trusting her thighs to hold her up on her knees. His long fingers ran from ankle to thigh and pressed her legs wider as they went. His fingers eased into her yet again, slippery from more oil, and she heard the sound of his hand moving over his own flesh. _I'm ready,_ she told herself, though she felt anything but.

The head of his cock felt different against her - blunter, wider, far more scary.

"Breathe out, pet, and bear down. It will help."

Pet. It was new, and it was different and it sounded so tender coming from his lips that the pain was almost a surprise. She heard herself whimper and his fingers were in her hair, smoothing it back.

"That's it, pet." His hand forced itself between her body and the mattress and made tiny, constricted circles against her clitoris. "Concentrate on the pleasure, and move when you're ready."

The feel of fingers on her clitoris made her want to buck and she began to make small thrusts with her hips. He groaned and the sound made her grin, but he didn't move until those minute movements finally seated him fully inside her. They both paused with his thighs against her own and his balls nestled against her arse.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Miss Granger. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir."

His body covered hers, pressing her against the mattress with his heavy weight as he began to piston his hips. They were long, slow strokes that set her skin to burning and she tried to remember were her fear had come from. Her moan was long and loud and she tried to remember the last time she had made these sorts of noises. She was used to gasps and cries, not these sounds like an animal in heat.

"You're not going to come, are you, Miss Granger?"

"No, Sir. I need, need."

His hands wrapped around her hips and pulled them up so they were kneeling. "Touch yourself," he commanded.

She obeyed instantly. With the sparks her fingers were drawing out and the constant torture from behind it wasn't long before she found herself begging.

"Please, Sir, may I come? Please I want, need. I can't – please, Sir."

"Yes, pet." She felt his lips move across her ear as he whispered the words that let her lose control. He felt impossibly large as her muscles clenched around him and her entire body was shaking by the time the orgasm had finished moving through her body. It was only then that he let up with those torturous slow strokes and wrapped an arm strong against her waist, holding her tight as he began to move, harder, faster, drawing the pleasure back into her.

She couldn't move, could barely breathe, could only let him use her body and allow the ecstasy to run through her again. No reaching, no straining this time, just the hot coils of orgasm running through her yet again as he pulled her back onto him. His hands were the only things keeping her from floating away in a haze and she concentrated on the feel of those long fingers cupping her breast and squeezing her waist. His teeth sank into her neck, wresting a high cry from her lips as his hips stilled and she felt him pulse within her.

He gently lay them down again, rolling to the side so as not to crush her. His hands smoothed her hair back from her face and chased the shivers from her body. He pulled away from her, leaving her gasping again as his cock drew out from that tight ring of muscle.

"Okay, pet?" he asked, drawing her around to curl in his arms, her ear resting against his chest. She nodded. "Good. Good girl."

Pet. Yes, she thought. It was her new favourite name.  



End file.
